


Unforgiving Winter

by aramisinaskirt (SilverMillennium_QueenNeptune)



Series: Musketeer March 2021 [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Cold, Drunk Athos | Comte de la Fère, Gen, Ice, Light Angst, Memories, Musketeer March 2021, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29805216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMillennium_QueenNeptune/pseuds/aramisinaskirt
Summary: A very drunk Athos awakens in the mansion he once shared with his former wife. Little does he know that the chill he feels is a result of more than just the cold.
Relationships: Athos | Comte de la Fère/Milady Clarick de Winter, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Musketeer March 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190600
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Unforgiving Winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [privateerwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/privateerwrites/gifts), [under_my_blue_umbrella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/under_my_blue_umbrella/gifts).



> Credit for the prompt list I'm following for this goes to @privateerstudies on tumblr. https://privateerstudies.tumblr.com/post/643477557598142464/musketeer-march
> 
> If you want to come yell at me on tumblr, I have one dedicated to my fanfics at https://writingismyescape.tumblr.com and a sub-tumblr for Muskie themed works at https://aramisinaskirt.tumblr.com/

_What the hell happened last night?_

This was the only thought going through Athos’ mind when he awakened at the manor home he had once cherished. He had no memory of coming to the place. There were too many ghosts here; too many mistakes made for him to remain here in peace. When and why he had returned were shrouded in mystery. One thing he knew for certain: he was very clearly nursing some pain in his head, though the cause had yet to be determined. 

In his desperation for a clear head, Athos leapt to his feet. The motion did little to aid him, though it did allow him a glance in a polished surface. He stared into the reflection of a man who had been to hell and back again, doomed to repeat his mistakes until he either learned or perished from them. He knew that fate did not care which. A draft in the room made him shiver. He had obviously neglected to tend the fire which, from the looks of the hearth, had been out for several hours. Empty bottles of wine lay discarded in piles around him. More than likely, they were the source of his headache. 

It had been many years since servants had actively lived in this place, but it was kept well enough by time. The portraits hanging on the wall conjured memories that Athos would rather forget. Thus he turned his back to them, choosing instead to venture out into the freshly falling snow. Paris was beautiful even when she was freezing. This was his home, no matter how often he tried to run, something about the familiar feel of the maison was comforting to him. Before he could enjoy the fire’s solitude, there was one thing he needed to do. 

There was a well on the property. In his formative days, Athos might have asked a servant to draw some water for him. But there was no longer anyone employed here. He used it only in cases of a last resort. Going out to the well, he lowered the bucket until it landed with a quiet splash. After a few moments he drew it up again. Resting it on one shoulder, he carefully carried it back into the house, only to find when he set it down that the fire had been put out and his water had frozen. But, how? Surely he had not been gone so long that the flame had flickered out on its own? A chill crept along Athos’ spine; Someone or something was here.

He cast the momentary panic aside, discarding his coat and gloves almost as quickly as he’d donned them. Squatting to the floor, he pounded his fist against the ring of ice at the top of the bucket, finally hearing it shatter with a satisfying crack. He took a deep breath and plunged his entire head into the icy water. Brutal though it was, he needed the clarity of mind to figure out exactly what had taken place the previous evening. Surely he had been drinking to forget as he usually did. But. . . 

_I left the fire to burn through the night and warm the room. It should still be lit. Unless someone was here and put it out for me. The only other people who knew about this place are long gone._ Athos could feel the chill down to his bones now, less a matter of the cold than his own dread. Someone had been here, someone who knew him and this place. Someone who wanted to send him a message. There could only be one. Of course, she would make him remember that she was as cold, cruel and unforgiving as her name. She had been taken from him in spring, but her season would always be winter.

He never saw the reflection in the window, or the hazel eyes fixed upon him wishing that he would freeze. It was deserved that he should die as cruel a death as that to which she had been condemned. But not today. Her chilly heart could grant this indulgence, so that he would suffer more before the she took him at last and put an end to their little game of cat and mouse once and for all.   
Cold though Milady might have been, ice was not good enough for the man she had once called her husband. She would rather see him burn. 


End file.
